


unbound

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Emperor Armitage Hux, Enforcer Kylo Ren, Feral Behavior, M/M, Muzzles, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Emperor Hux allows his hound to unwind after a long day of adhering to his duty.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 148
Collections: Kylux Positivity Week 2020





	unbound

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small drabble for the Emperor/Hound Positivity Week prompt because it's one of my favorite AUs. Wish I could do a little more for it right now, but alas.

Emperor Hux’s hound returns to him quietly, long after the day’s affairs have officially concluded. 

Hux has already begun to undress, slipping off his boots and shedding the outermost layer of robes, when he hears the door to his bedchambers click open. He doesn’t bother looking behind him. Unusual for the paranoid emperor, but he knows intimately who has just entered his quarters.

“Ren,” Hux exhales, fingers dropping from the fasteners of his robes. An invisible hand grips the undone garment by the collar, slipping if off Hux’s shoulders and floating it over to the wardrobe. Now in only his snow-white tunic and belt, Hux finally turns all the way around to face his hound. 

Ren still wears his mask, having not dared to try to remove it himself. His restraint is admirable, and born of the same loyalty and devotion Hux has tried so hard to cultivate within him for years, ever since the Order first evolved into its current state. Hux smirks. It’s always lovely to witness the fruits of his efforts, how Ren’s compliance has grown with Hux’s power, how this frightening man willingly wears a muzzle merely because no one but the emperor deserves to hear him speak freely. 

But Hux knows that Ren’s mouth is good for many things besides words. 

First, however, there is lingering business Hux must confirm has been taken care of. He sweeps over to his hound, who remains still, and touches the side of the mask. It covers less of his face than his old helmet, extending from his nose down to his chin and all the way up to his ears. Stylized fangs adorn the front, reforged from the old silver ornaments that had once distinguished the heir of Vader from the rest of the rebrobates that liked to hide their identities from the galaxy. 

“Did you escort the Chagrian diplomat back to his ship?” Hux asked. 

A slow nod, Ren’s wild hair glinting in the low light of the bedroom. 

“Good.” Hux’s thumb brushes against the eyeteeth of Ren’s mask. “And did he understand that should he speak to me in such a fashion again, you’ll have his slimy head ripped from his shoulders?”

Ren exhales forcefully through the filter in his mask and nods again. 

“Good boy.” Hux cups Ren’s mask with both hands now, stroking over where the harsh metal gives way to the tender skin of his hound’s cheek. “You’ve earned your freedom for the day.”

Ren tips his chin up with slow, yielding reverence as Hux’s fingers flit over the familiar release in the machinery of the mask. Hux stalls for only a moment, watching the slow bob of movement in Ren’s vulnerable throat beneath his stubbly jawline, bared to Hux with trust and subservience, before he clicks the mask free, sliding the internal bit out of Ren’s mouth before letting it fall into two pieces at their feet with a muffled _clunk_. 

It’s like a switch is flipped. In an instant, Ren’s entire body language, his entire aura shifts, going from quiet and simmering to suddenly ablaze with zeal and a loud, unrestrained growl. A soft gasp pushes from Hux’s lungs as strong arms wrap around his waist, sweeping him off his feet. Hux’s legs instinctively wrap around his hound’s sturdy hips, hands bracing against his shoulders as he otherwise goes limp before Ren’s unchained desire. 

Teeth claim Hux’s neck as Ren pushes him down onto the bed. Hux whines, now the one to tilt his chin up and bare his throat as Ren rakes his canines over the delicate flesh enrobing his throbbing jugular. Hux squirms, bucking up his hips, urging Ren closer, wanting to feel more of his hound’s pent-up need. It was what both of them needed after a long day of repression and temperance—Ren’s restraints were just far more visible than Hux’s were, though no less frustrating. 

“Oh Ren, _yes_ , mark me, harder,” Hux moans as Ren sucks a bruise into his throat, the pinpricks of pain in the wet, swollen flesh telling the emperor his hound had made him bleed. And while a more heartless and stupid master might punish, even strike a dog for biting too hard, Hux does neither, does nothing but moan and invite _more_ such marks, all the way down to his collar, his chest, his hips, anywhere Ren wished. Hux knows better than to raise a hand where it isn’t needed. A hound that was richly rewarded for good behavior would remain far more loyal than the one subjected to pointless discipline. 

By the time Ren finishes having his way they both lie half-naked in the bed, streaked with sweat and come and pleasantly exhausted. Ren, mollified, reclines with his body curled around Hux and his head planted on the emperor’s chest, his inky hair caressed slowly between Hux’s fond fingers. He doesn’t sleep, but rests, like the accomplished hound that he is, satisfied by the opportunity to please his master. 

Hux strokes the tips of his nails over Ren’s scalp, the desire to rinse himself of the filth of sex clinging to his body strong but the pull of sleep—plus the heavy weight of his hound atop him—far stronger. He gives up after a couple of testing wiggles, especially when Ren tightens his grip around him and lets out a warning growl. 

“Messy thing,” Hux chastises with a light tug of Ren’s ear, “you’re going to have to get a bath eventually.”

He says this, but for now, Hux feels content to lie there, petting Ren’s hair, contemplating the nature of sobriety, of self-control and dignity, their unfortunate necessity. 

Alas, the muzzle was essential to the health of the empire. Otherwise, Hux would be too wrapped up in the clutches of his hound’s hungry embrace to finish anything that needed doing. 

And he couldn’t have that, now could he?

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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